Water Cooler Romances
by DearBuddha
Summary: The baby steps start of something big. Tony/Pepper.


He watches her as she sips her coffee, and wonders if the freckles that cascade down her neck follow the contours of her body

He watches her as she sips her coffee, and wonders if the freckles that cascade down her neck follow the contours of her body. Redheads are living variations of connect-the-dots, he's always imagined. He was fairly disappointed when it turned out the one redhead he'd slept with was actually a natural brunette. No freckles to trace, no constellations to imagine, swirling about on ivory skin just waiting to be discovered. But Pepper is a real redhead, right down the temper, if he knows her at all.

Right now she's reading his emails, answering them for him, because she knows he's either too apathetic or too stubborn to do it on his own. He watches her eyelashes as they flutter, black butterfly wings against the pale canvas of her cheek.

"Miss Potts, I have a thought."

She doesn't look up, just keeps typing away. She "hmms" in response and waits for him to continue.

"You don't date enough."

She looks up, email forgotten and sapphire eyes narrowed in confusion.

"Excuse me?"

He continues. "You're too sexy to be here so late every night. And I'm tired of paying you for working over-time. You should go on more dates." He pushes the laptop away from her perch at his desk, and rests half-heartedly on its wooden surface. He crosses his arm over his chest, wrinkling the silk of his shirt, and looks her square in the eye.

"Get up", he orders.

She gapes at him, probably wondering if he's lost his mind. Fair enough, he thinks, 'cause it's very likely he has, given recent events and revelations. But he's a Goddamned superhero, so he pretends he's not anxious in the slightest.

"I said, get up." He takes her by the elbow and gently hauls her to her feet. She's standing in front of him now, and he can tell she's pissed, mostly because her cheeks are pink and her lips are tight with annoyance. This close to her, he can smell her perfume. It smells expensive, so he assumes it's probably a birthday present from him, bought to punish him for once again forgetting it. He sniffs lightly.

"Do you always smell like lilacs?"

"No, only when my boss tells me I'm a social defect."

He grins. "Christ, sounds like I'm a bastard. You should report me to the better business bureau."

She ignores him. "Mr. Stark, I still have roughly three hundred emails to sort through before tomorrow morning. I can't leave now."

He ignores her, turns and drags her along with him as they leave the office.

"Where are we going?" She demands as he grabs keys from a table.

"To your apartment. You need to change."

"For what?"

"I'm taking you to dinner. I hope you like Polynesian."

She skids across the marble of his foyer, her heels giving out from under her. He catches her as she stumbles, and repositions her so she's once again upright. Her eyes are wide and full of questions, so he does the only thing he can think of.

He kisses her.

He imagines he must have dazed her into forgetting how pissed she just was, and wonders that she hasn't punched him yet. He thinks this before he stops thinking.

When he pulls away, he notices her face is flushed and she's breathing hard, though he's not sure if it's from shock or passion. Anyway, she's speechless, and that doesn't exactly happen too often.

"Sooo", he starts slowly. "I'm guessing you're ok with that, seeing as my jaw is still in one piece, and I'm not bleeding or bruised or bandaged."

She stares at him, and he starts to wonder if maybe she really did like it, or if he's going to find her resignation papers on his desk in the morning.

"You kissed me." It's not a statement, really. He nods. "Yeah, I did. I'd say it was pretty hot, too, given that you're my assistant and things like kissing your assistant are supposed to be a big hell-no. I think we should try it again." He leans in and almost succeeds before she pushes him away with one hand squarely on his chest.

"Is this your idea of a date? Making out in a hallway?"

He shrugs. "It's certainly more interesting then dinner and a movie. Also, there's less polite conversation and awkwardness. All in all, I'd say this is the best kind of date." He waits for her to answer. When no answer comes, he raises his eyebrows in a hopeful manner.

"Hey, listen. If you're not going to talk to me, can I at least get another kiss?"

She shakes her head as she moves towards the door and grabs her purse, facing him with a small, satisfied grin.

"Maybe after you buy me dinner," she announces.


End file.
